Single Elimination: A Cozy Mystery (Brenna Battle Book 4) (4 page)

I glanced around desperately for Blythe.
Emergency! Emotional Intelligence required!
I’m the first to admit I’m a little impaired in that area. Blythe is my go-to girl for kids in meltdown mode. But I didn’t see Blythe anywhere. The last time I’d seen her, she’d been talking to Luke the Cutie over by the drink cooler. There she was! On the other side of the log barriers separating the grassy park from the sand and pebbles of the beach slightly below.

With him. With her sandals in her hand, laughing and scampering through the surf. Really? I was on my own with this one. Katie was too far away to see me embarrassing her now, so I took off running in the direction she’d gone. I lost track of her for a moment, then spotted a figure in the distance, darting through the shadows of the stately evergreen trees that covered the grassy area further up the park. That had to be her, running toward the bathroom, but I didn’t think I’d ever seen Katie move so fast.

The outer bathroom door slammed shut just before I reached it. I pulled it open and peered under the stall doors. There were only a couple of stalls, and Katie’s purple canvas shoes were easy to spot. I could hear her suppressed sniffles. It just about broke my heart. I decided to give her a minute. To calm down, you know? And maybe I needed a minute, too. This kid was making me soft.

After a while, I said, “Katie? Katie, I know you’re in there. You can’t stay in there forever. Come on, it smells terrible.”

I’m telling you, it really did smell
bad
. The floor was covered with a sandy sort of mud, probably from the kids willing to brave the ocean water. Frigid currents kept Bonney Bay’s waters from warming up much, even on a beautiful August day like this.

“Yes, I can!” Katie shot back.

“Come on, you wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Yes, I would!”

“You’re going to start smelling like a toilet if you stay in there too long.”

“I might as well. I feel like a toilet!”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at that.
 

“I don’t want to be Klutzy Katie anymore,” she sobbed. “I thought I was done being Klutzy Katie.”

What could I say? I couldn’t promise her she’d never do anything like this again. Poor Katie just seemed to have a knack for bumping into things, tripping, ruining ballet recitals, dropping things…pegging innocent, helpless elderly ladies in the eye with corn…

Her coordination on the mat had improved dramatically. I didn’t know why she kept having these mishaps. In the end, she was probably just going to have to learn not to take them so seriously. But how do you tell that to a ten-year-old? Would I have wanted to hear that at her age? Come on, if I’d just taken a hit like that and flung my lunch all over everyone, at
my
age, I’d want to sink right into the toilet bowl, too.

Speaking of toilets, the smell was really getting to me. I needed some air. I pulled open the door.

At the sound of it swinging open, Katie said, “Sensei Brenna?” in a small, choked voice.

I paused. “You ready to talk?”

“No!”

“Oh-kay. I just need to step out for some fresh air. I’m not going anywhere. Are you sure you don’t want to come out here with me?”

“No!”

Grr.

A college-age girl walked in as I exited, her trendy purse clutched to her side. She caught a whiff of the bathroom air and gave me an accusatory look. Fantastic. I shook my head and turned the corner of the small bathroom building, seeking some shade and some fresher air. I stopped cold. A pair of feet stuck out from behind the building. They were still. So still. One foot wore a shiny pink pump. The other was shoeless.

The missing shoe lay a few feet away. I’d seen that powder-pink color before. With a knot in my chest, I took a step closer, leaned forward, and peered around the corner. Navy blue skirt, pale pink blazer—Dina Hermiston. I knelt down and touched her wrist. There was no pulse. Her skin was cool to the touch. She was gone. Her eyes were wide open, lifeless. There was no obvious sign of foul play, though there was blood around her head and neck. The only thing out of place was her shoe, but I made sure I didn’t touch anything else, just in case.

My heart raced. With shaking hands, I got out my phone.
Not again. Dear God, not again.
Will or 9-1-1? Will
was
my 9-1-1. I wasn’t afraid to admit that. I wanted him here. Taking a few seconds to text him wasn’t going to hurt Dina Hermiston. Nothing was going to hurt Dina ever again, the poor woman.

Come Quick
, I texted Will.
Found Dina Hermiston behind the bathroom at Brightside. Deceased. Calling 9-1-1.

5

“Sensei Brenna?”

Oh, No. Katie. I wheeled around and darted back toward the door, just in time to catch Katie by the arm as she ran out.

Katie looked at my face and her puffy, red eyes widened. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Just…why don’t you go back inside?”

“Back in the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“What happened to smelling like poop?”

“Katie, just go.”

“What’s wrong? Something’s wrong.”

I hesitated. “Yes, something’s wrong. There’s something you don’t need to see.”
 

Katie looked at me quizzically. Her poor little face looked like one big, red welt. It was hard to tell where the effects of crying ended and the marks from the ball’s impact began.

What was I doing? She was going to find out that there was a dead woman behind the bathroom. Everyone was going to find out. I just didn’t want to tell her. I was a big weenie.
 

“Do you know Mrs. Hermiston?”

“The lady who used to volunteer at Cherrywood Elementary?”

“Um, I don’t know.”

This was even worse than I’d thought. I didn’t just have to tell Katie someone died, I had to tell her someone she
knew
had died. Mrs. Hermiston had lived here a long time. I didn’t know her before today, but she must have a long history, a lot of people who knew her from the many things she’d been involved in over the years.
 

Maybe Katie was thinking of someone else. “Older lady? Wearing a pink blazer today?“

“Yeah, that’s her. She volunteers to help the music teacher.”

So much for hoping. “Katie, I’m sorry, but I found Mrs. Hermiston. She’s dead.”

Waves of confusion and shock rippled over Katie’s already battered face. “But—are you sure? Shouldn’t we try to help her?”

She moved to try to get past me, but I held her back. I shook my head. “It’s too late.”

Katie’s red face paled. I put my arms around her. “Just stay here with me, okay? I’m calling 9-1-1.”

Will was the first one on the scene. I saw him sprinting toward me, Blythe, and Katie, and my heart warmed. I’d had Katie call Blythe on her phone and tell her to meet us outside the bathroom right away, while I stayed on the line with 9-1-1.

“Brenna?” Will asked.

“Over there.” I pointed behind the bathroom.

Will hurried toward the pink shoe and the lifeless form of Dina Hermiston.
 

The sound of sirens approaching, the flashing lights on the street in front of the parking lot, and the sight of Will running straight for the bathrooms at full speed, without so much as a hello, or a pause to grab a cookie, alerted the salmon bake attendees that something of interest was going down. Picnickers migrated in our direction, with the soccer-playing kids taking the lead.

Will came back around. “Keep them back,” he told me. “Keep the kids back. Keep them all back.”

The look on Will’s face—he was calm, he was professional, but I knew there was something really ugly behind him. Something I hadn’t discovered. Something I had no desire to see. No. It couldn’t be. Not another murder. No way. I wanted to shake my head, but instead I nodded quickly and turned to face the gathering crowd.

“Give officer Riggins some space, please!”

“But, is someone hurt?” David Marillo said. “Who is it? Do they need help?”

I swallowed hard. “No. The best way we can help right now is to stay back.”

“Thank you, everyone. Just step back a bit,” Blythe ran over to me. “Brenna,” she whispered. “How did she die?”

“I’m not sure.”
 

I looked at Will, and then I knew for sure. It was murder.

Blythe and I sat in Will’s den, exhausted. He handed us drinks and settled on the big, sectional couch beside me. Chloe jumped up and wriggled in between us. She lay with her head in my lap and her tail in Will’s.

“That’s what I get, Chloe? Your hind end? For all the years I endured your slipper-chewing and your puppy puddles?”

Chloe rolled her eyes backward toward him, then nuzzled my hand.

“Wow. That’s loyalty,” Will said.

“Sorry, Will,” I said. Chloe’s tail thumped in Will’s lap.

Oh, to be so innocent, so oblivious to the nastiness in the world. It really wouldn’t be so bad to be a spoiled chocolate lab like Chloe.

Outside, the sun was setting. It had been a long day, not of picnicking and volleyball playing, but of dealing with a crime in our midst. Dina Hermiston had indeed been the victim of foul play. She was eventually taken away in an ambulance, and the police roped off the scene and called in the forensic lady from the county.

Mrs. Hermiston’s children and grandchildren were all a mess of tears, grief, and confusion. The salmon bake would’ve ended early, but everyone had to stick around to give the police their information. Some of us, like me, the unfortunate discoverer of yet another body, had to give official statements. It had been a very long day.

Sammi, whose mother had insisted she clean her room before she could go to the salmon bake, had finally arrived, only to discover that she’d missed all the excitement. She’d stayed around to lend Katie some moral support, and Will had given them both a ride home once they were free to go. Sammi had plans to sleep over at Katie’s house and nurse her back to health with pink bubblegum-flavored ice cream.

“Has Gunter been arrested?” Blythe asked.

I’d made a lengthy statement about Gunter Hatton’s argument with Dina, less than ten minutes before I found her body.

Will shook his head. “Alibi. He has an alibi.”

“Really?” I said.

“Well, you saw him and Mrs. Hermiston part ways. She was still alive. They were headed in opposite directions. And witnesses can account for his every move after that. People saw him heading back to the picnic tables. That’s where he was, up until everyone saw the ambulance coming and realized something was wrong.”

“Sometimes witnesses are mistaken,” Blythe said.

“Do you really think he did it?” I asked her.

“I don’t know. I guess it would just be nice to know who did it and be done with it.”

“Trust me,” Will said, “I know exactly what you mean.”

“So,” I dared to ask, “what was the murder weapon?” From my angle, I hadn’t seen any obvious wounds.

Will stared into his glass of soda. “A meat thermometer.”

“A what?” Blythe and I said at the same time.

“Are you sure?” Blythe’s hand went to her heart.

Will tapped the side of his neck. “Oh, yes. It was still there. Right here. I’ve never seen anything like that. It looked like she just had a heart attack or something, but when I looked close, I saw some blood under her head and neck area. It could’ve been from her hitting her head when she collapsed, from natural causes, but I turned her head, and there it was.”

“What kind of person does that?” I said.

“To a helpless old woman!” Tears came to Blythe’s eyes.

“Someone very angry,” I said.

I couldn’t help it. My wheels were already turning. It couldn’t have been premeditated long ahead of time. I mean, a meat thermometer? Not only was that a gruesome way to kill someone, it wasn’t exactly the ideal murder weapon. Unless…what if the killer was just trying to throw the police off by choosing such an outrageous method? Could it be possible that really wasn’t what killed her? She could’ve been killed by some other means, and the whole scene staged. Surely there would be an autopsy and the police would find out, if that was the case.

“It was
the
meat thermometer,” Will said. “The one the cooks were using for the salmon bake.”

“Finger prints?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“Then there had to be some premeditation involved,” I concluded.

“Yes,” Blythe said. “He might not have planned on killing her that day, but sometime before the murder, he made a decision. He picked up the meat thermometer. He held it with a cloth—or an oven mitt!”

“Or something,” I said. “I doubt anyone had gloves there on a summer day.”

“He confronted her one final time, and he killed her.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Will said. “Now, if only we could figure out who would do that.”

6

It was a beautiful day for a Sunday jog. I could stare at the water, sparkling in the distance, at the stretch of beach and the strip of green that formed Brightside Beach Park, and almost forget that yesterday it had been filled with shocked and horrified townspeople.

I’d already gone for a run earlier, but Will had asked me to meet up with him after work and take Chloe for a run with him.

“Okay, I know you can’t tell me anything, but I can tell you things, right?” I said as we ran.

Will gave me a skeptical look.

“And I can ask you questions, even if you can’t answer them.”

“Seriously, Brenna? You’re going to ask me questions and try to read me?”

“You’re like an open book, but only because I have the key, officer. It’s the perfect solution. I can honestly say you didn’t tell me a thing.”

Will groaned.

“If there was any struggle, and the murder took place while we were in the bathroom, I know I would’ve heard it. I think she was killed before Katie ran to the bathroom, and neither of us noticed the body because she was so upset and I was so worried about her.”

Will grunted. I gave him a smug look. He agreed with me, I could tell.

“What about that woman? The one with the cute purse who thought I stinkified the bathroom?”

“We haven’t found her yet. No one on our list of people in the park or on the beach that day fits the description.”